Something's Broken
by SALJStella
Summary: Being a workaholic is one thing. But since the bathroom, it's gotten out of hand for Lawrence. He works constantly to rid himself of a sin he's not sure what it is, and unlike before, he now actually has someone at home who misses him. AdamLawrence.
1. Prologue: Dear Lawrence

**A/N: Hello, my sweethearts! Yeah, you guessed it, I'm back with another story. Those of you who've read my previous stories might've seen this coming, and for the MadlyInLove-newcomers, all I can say is this: I write ChainShipping, a LOT, and don't try to convince me that Adam is dead, because then I'll become aggressive. XD But all of you who've decided to read this, I thank you! Now, read, damn it!**

**Prologue: Dear Lawrence**

_Dear Lawrence, _

No, that's not right.

_Larry, _

There should be some sort of endearment in that first line, he knows that. But Lawrence and him didn't really have the sweet-talking kind of relationship, and "dear" just sounds stupid.

_I'm sorry. I'm really sorry about this. But it's for your sake, too. You didn't need me, anyway. _

That's true. He is sorry, and Lawrence doesn't need him. There was a time when Adam thought he did, but not anymore.

_I know you'll be sad, and I know you'll blame yourself, because that's just who you are. But I want you to know_

Adam deletes that sentence before it's finished. He's not going to lie in this note.

_Even though it's your fault that I_

He deletes that, too. That sentence was absolutely truthful, but he can't write that. Lawrence is going to blame himself enough as it is. Adam sighs and pauses for a bit before he slowly puts his fingers on the keyboard again.

_But I know all the happiness in my life to you. _

Adam stares at that sentence for a little while. Then he deletes the whole document and closes the computer.

He wasn't going to do it, anyway. But if he in the future ever finds himself in a situation where he has to write a suicide note, he's going to have to remember to not include the one thing he still loves about the person the note is meant for. It sort of kills the mood, apparently.

Maybe he should've written that he owes the majority of pain in his life to Lawrence, too. He'll think about that until next time.

**And I also love angst, did I forget to say that? ;) This is just the prologue, so the next chapter will be longer. I hope you liked it! **


	2. One Thing You Can't Do

**A/N: I wanted to update this soon, since I can imagine the last chapter being a bit unfulfilling, but what do you know, it took a lot longer than I thought it would. XD But either way, it's here now! Another chapter! Yay! **

**1: One Thing You Can't Do**

They've been together for so long. What brought them together is so distant that it really shouldn't ruin things for them anymore.

Adam still remembers those first times. When it was all new and exciting and downright frightening. Or, it would've been frightening, being the commitophobe that he is, but then he saw Lawrence's smile and he felt the chilling jolt becoming pretty enjoyable, the will to run away fading.

They'd been through hell. It took years of therapy, both physical and psychological, before either one of them could go to a public bathroom again. Lawrence had to get divorced, Adam had to get over himself and allow himself to be happy. But they got through it, they moved in together, and it was okay, it was all okay.

But that was then.

Adam had never experienced what he had with Lawrence back then. There are still days when he comes home and is almost overwhelmed when he feels the welcoming embrace. After years of cold, when his heart was an empty room and the apartment felt like a giant mouth devouring him every time he had to enter it, he had someone. He was defrosted.

And he knew, even though he hadn't known Lawrence the way he was before, that the light in his eyes was something _he _brought out. Allison had left those eyes as dead as they were with Adam during those hours in the bathroom, and Adam had brought them back to life. Him.

But once again, that was then.

Adam had been so childish back then. Despite what he seems like, he is a hopeless romantic. When Adam is in love, as drop-dead ridiculously in love as he was in the beginning of their relationship, he really is prepared to run through walls for whoever it is that makes him feel that way. So when that went away, when he saw the effect the bathroom had really had on Lawrence, it was a longer fall than any of the breakups he'd had before. It couldn't be solved with two pitchers of beer and an even bigger consumption of cigarettes than he had before.

It was devastating. It really shouldn't be possible to feel as betrayed as Adam felt when he realized it.

He'd been so childish. And he'd loved it. But he was through with that now. Lawrence had pulled him out of it.

He knows he shouldn't feel as let down by this as he does. If anyone's the victim in this situation, it's Lawrence, he knows that. But the thing is, Lawrence doesn't really seem to mind it. When he's at work, doing the job that's a lot more his life than what Adam thought they had together, that's when he's happy. It's when Adam drags him back home and literally _forces _him to spend some time with him, that's when he's unhappy. His eyes flutter down to his watch when Adam pretends to look away, and he thinks he doesn't notice it, but he does.

Adam should've known. This is how it had to turn out. This is the way they are. When the memories get the best of Adam, he turns it outwards, kicks and screams and throw things at the walls, and Lawrence just stands there, waits it out, doesn't step in. It's not until Adam's just a whimpering bundle on the floor, that he walks in, grabs his shoulders and pulls him to his feet.

Lawrence doesn't work like that. He turns the pain inwards, against himself. And Adam should learn to see the patterns, see past the plastic happiness and notice when Lawrence is in pain, but how the hell is he supposed to do that, when it's with the one he loves that Lawrence seems unhappy? How is he supposed to know what makes Lawrence happy when the one thing he can't live without is what pushes them further and further away from each other?

Lawrence works so hard. It shouldn't be humanly possible to work as hard as he does.

Lawrence works back-to-back twelve hour-shifts. Lawrence takes three kinds of pills in the morning so that stupid things like tiredness or need to eat won't slow him down. Lawrence comes home at four o'clock in the morning, snuggles up against Adam's back and heals the shards of trust that lays scattered in his chest, Adam goes back to sleep and thinks that tomorrow, things will be different, Lawrence is going to stay home and bring him chocolate and roses and there'll be unicorns bouncing around in the living room with fucking pink little clouds coming out of their asses, but then the morning comes, and Lawrence gives Adam a sloppy peck on the lips before he rushes out the door, and Adam has to realize, with the feeling like he's sinking into a cold, cold bath, that this day is just like the one before.

And the one before that, and the one before that.

It's true. Lawrence probably suffers more from this. It's a drug to him, he gets more stressed when he has to stay home on the couch with Adam half-sleeping on his lap than he is with someone else's blood on his hands. Of course this will come back to haunt him. Of course it haunts him already.

But it doesn't feel that way. Because at least he has a drug, something to numb the pain.

While all Adam has is a fridge full of food he can't eat on his own, a dinner that tastes like nothing when he has to eat it alone, a bed that's too big with no one to sleep in it with him.

He has a void. And the void doesn't numb the pain of having to see what Lawrence's drug does to him.

Lawrence is broken down. Bit by bit. Adam may not see when Lawrence fakes happiness or when he isn't, but he does see Lawrence's soul dying a little every day. Because no man can bring down on himself what Lawrence tries to do.

Lawrence wants to save everyone. That's his blessing, and his curse. And more importantly, his obsession.

_Has to save everyone. _

Adam can only imagine that's the words on Lawrence's lips those nights he sleeps in the on-call room. Too far away from him.

_Has to save everyone. _

**Adam can bitch all he wants, but after a hundred fanfics where he's the one who needs saving, I bet he secretly loves this. XD Either way, I hope you liked this! **


	3. Every Life Has A Meaning

**A/N: Yes, I'm the slowest updater on the planet, and for that you must forgive me. School, however, will not be forgiven. It will SUFFER. No joke. **

**A/N#2: (And this is important) I AM GOING TO CHANGE MY PENNAME! Right after I've posted this chapter, actually. From now on, I shall only be called SALJStella, of course meaning Sawyer-Adam-Lawrence-Jack-Stella. My four favorite boys and me! :)**

**2: Every Life Has A Meaning**

Lawrence looks up from his charts for the first time tonight when Adam throws his purchase on top of them. Adam grins mischievously, and Lawrence looks from him to the thing he threw. A book.

"I think they wrote that book about you," Adam says and sits down on Lawrence's lap.

Lawrence chuckles wearily and lifts up the book to read the title. _The Good-Girl Trap. _

"Is that how you see me?" he asks and wraps both arms around Adam's waist.

Adam keeps grinning.

"Yeah," he says, takes the book from Lawrence and flips it over. "Read the description of a Good Girl: 'Women who has trouble slowing down, finds pleasure in performing and thinks their value as people is based on their performances.' Seriously, that's so much you that I wouldn't be surprised if you actually became a good _girl _anytime soon."

Lawrence smiles and turns to Adam. Their faces dangerously close.

"Would you turn straight for me if I did?" he asks sweetly.

"You know I would, man," he says and braids his fingers together with Lawrence's.

_I'd turn straight for you. But you can't even stay home one goddamn night unless you have to for me. _

Lawrence grins back at him, kisses him gently and then picks up his pen. Adam's already uninteresting to him again.

"Now, hop along, little doggie, I have to work on these charts."

He doesn't look at him. Adam tries to ignore the cloud drawing over his heart and lifts up the book again.

"Lawrence," he says, serious. "Seriously, read this. There are some things I do for other reasons than to mess with you, and this is one of them."

Lawrence grins. Looks at him again. _Well, you take what you get, don't you? _

"I will read it, Adam. But I need to update these charts."

Adam snorts. Okay. One last attempt.

He tries to get through at least three times a day. He's hoping that's going to gather up to one giant breakthrough. Someday.

He sits down in Lawrence's lap again. Lawrence sighs theatrically and bows his head when he has to give Adam attention again. Adam knows he's joking. He hopes he's joking.

"Why did you get together with me, Lawrence?" he asks.

He wants to sound accusing, but their faces are right next to each other, skin brushes against skin, and with that being as much physical contact they've had in a long time, how can that not knock him off his feet?

"All this crap is what you're really spending time with," he mumbles and puts one hand behind Lawrence's neck. "These fucking charts… That's what your life is. Not me. Right?"

Lawrence's eyes flicker, can't stay on Adam's face like they can when Adam says something he doesn't have to take seriously. Okay, so this was a tiny breakthrough. He has reached him today.

"I live with you…" Lawrence begins and clasps his hands behind Adam's back. "Because I love you. And I have lived with you ever since the bathroom because no one understands me like you do. And you're one of the few people I actually feel safe around. And because I couldn't stand the thought of a lovely little smartass like you just… Rotting away in your apartment without anyone remembering you after you died. That's why I live with you."

Adam nods. He is moved, but not in the right way. Just like Lawrence lives with him for all the right reasons, but that's not enough to make _him _feel enough.

"But you still do this all the time," Adam says and gestures feebly against the charts on Lawrence's desk. Letters and numbers he will never understand.

Lawrence smiles sympathetically.

"You'd prefer it if I did you all the time, wouldn't you?" he mumbles and grazes their noses together.

"I sure as hell would," Adam grins, playing along, and responds to Lawrence's following kiss even though his arguments don't end there. "I know you do this because… You feel guilty, like you have to prove yourself and all, but I just…" Lawrence's eyes fading out, he's already losing interest. "Can't you calm down a bit? Because you know, there are other ways to prove that you appreciate everything. And besides, it's not like Jigsaw has a hidden camera in here to make sure you make the most of everything now, right?"

Things like this should be said at the end of a movie, and then it should be backed up with dramatic music and said with perfect intonation and a moving tremble of the voice. Adam doesn't deliver, this is all he's got. And something closes down over Lawrence's gaze, a polite distance, and a lack of interest that makes Adam want to scream into nothing.

"I know," Lawrence says in the same tone as Adam answers when someone tries to talk to him in the morning before he's had his coffee. "Now, get out of here, I have to finish this."

He gently pushes Adam out of his lap. His eyes back down on the chart, those damn things that are so much more interesting than him.

Adam just stares at him for a while. Then he walks into the bedroom and sorts all Lawrence's ties according to color, because if he will, everything will be good again, and then he walks into the living room again. This time, Lawrence doesn't even look up.

xxxxxxxxxxx

It's been five years. But Lawrence still remembers it. He doesn't think of it as one of those moments, those that define, not in the way you get it right away, but that you'll think back of, cursing yourself: _What if I'd thought differently? _He doesn't think of it like that, but that's just what it is.

It'd been the night after Adam had been rescued. Lawrence hadn't started recovering physically, but he'd seen Adam again, fallen asleep next to the body that tightened from the nightmares, and that'd made things a little better.

He knew that it was procedure to force someone who'd been through this kind of trauma through a few months of therapy before he got back to work. This was his first session, and it didn't feel as weird as he thought it would. His shrink was nice, not overly sympathetic, that would've driven him crazy. They'd now gotten to the part where she started asking him how he dealt with things after the bathroom, and that was when it got a little difficult.

"How do you think these events will affect you in the long run?" she asked and leaned her pen against her cheek.

Lawrence sighed and rubbed the side of his face.

"I don't know," he mumbled. "Hopefully for the better. I mean… I'm sure that I'll sooner or later start appreciating my life more, even thought things are pretty bad right now."

The therapist nodded thoughtfully.

"Are you starting to feel any survivor's guilt?" she then asked.

Lawrence shook his head.

"No. I'm still in the shock phase, I guess…"

"None at all?" the therapist asked, and Lawrence shook his head again. "Well, that's good. Do you…"

"Wait," Lawrence cut her off. "I mean… Should I?"

"No, of course not," she said and shrugged, her eyes still on her notepad. "You just seem like the kind of person that could have that sort of self-destructive way to deal with the post-traumatic stress. Ask yourself why you survived, and come to the conclusion that it was that you had to save someone. And then let that express itself in your occupation."

Then she'd asked him how he felt about Adam, but Lawrence was already drifting out.

He hadn't notice it that day, or the day after that, or months from then. He hadn't noticed it until he went back to work, understandably.

Lawrence doesn't think back of this moment, because he doesn't realize that he feels just that. But he should. It's a key moment. Even though he can't change it now, it could've been different if that moment had been.

Lawrence doesn't think about that moment, because he's busy thinking the thought that was planted in his head right then.

_Have to save everyone. _


	4. Hold Onto Something Barely Alive

**A/N: Hiii everybody! Here I am, back with another chapter! And I should probably apologize for Lawrence being an asshole in this fanfic, but… I won't. If he were nice, what'd the fun be in this thing? ;) **

**3: Hold Onto Something Barely Alive**

Adam is in bed.

Adam's laying in bed. It's about six o'clock in the morning. He usually doesn't wake up until at least ten, but he's awake now, and he hasn't slept for the whole night. He hasn't dared to.

Because Lawrence is in bed with him.

Adam doesn't dare to fall asleep, hell, it took him an hour after Lawrence fell asleep before he dared to put an arm around his waist because he was scared that Lawrence was going to disappear if he did.

Lawrence doesn't think about any of that. He's sleeping. Adam feels like someone's filled his head with alcohol-drenched cotton balls because he's so tired, but he refuses to go to sleep.

He won't let him and Lawrence have a completely loveless life together.

Incidentally, it's at that thought that Lawrence wakes up. Of course he can't take the opportunity to sleep when no one's paged him yet, his head would probably explode if he slept past six thirty, but of course, every thought of that disappears when those damn blue eyes squint against him.

"Hey," Lawrence mumbles and rakes his hand through Adam's hair, wraps one arm around him.

Adam smiles uncertainly.

"Hey."

It's quiet for a while after that. Lawrence is probably just tired, and Adam's not sure what to say.

How do you tell someone you've missed him when you saw each other yesterday?

"Do you have to go to work today?" That's all he can think of.

Lawrence smiles against the top of his head.

"You know I do, Adam."

Adam nods. He knows.

"I miss having you around here, you know."

"Mm," Lawrence says. "I miss it, too. But… I'm needed there."

_There are thousands of other doctors on that hospital. There's only one me. _

"Aren't there anyone else there to do stuff?"

"Of course there are," Lawrence says with a smug smile that Adam hears in his voice. "But none as good as me."

Adam smiles weakly, pulls back his head to look Lawrence in the eye. Lawrence looks back at him, and Adam realizes that this is the most sincere smile he's seen on Lawrence's face in a long time, and also realizes that he really can't feel happy about it.

Lawrence does smile. But then he lifts his arm behind Adam's head and looks at his watch. He never takes off that goddamn watch.

"Ugh, I've got to go," Lawrence mutters, annoyed, and sounds like he means it, but once again, Adam can't feel it.

He can't feel what he's supposed to feel. Lawrence took that away from him.

Lawrence is supposed to be home. If he really loves Adam, he's supposed to be home with him.

Why the hell should Adam feel? Why should he feel anything at all?

Lawrence stands up, gets dressed in thirty seconds to not miss a fucking moment in his cozy little hospital that he loves so much. Adam sits up, watches him walk away. Walk away.

"You're not even going to have breakfast?" he tries, he begs.

"Nah, I'll pick up something on the way," Lawrence says and fastens the last button on his shirt.

Adam nods. Running out of time.

"Will you be home tomorrow, then?"

Lawrence rushes up to Adam, but not to plant that ridiculously chaste kiss on his lips. He sits down in front of Adam, both hands on his knees. Okay, Adam does feel that. There could be hope.

"Not in the day," Lawrence says, and wanders his gaze to the ceiling, looking through the busy schedule in his head. "But tomorrow night. Then I'll be home."

He means it. Adam nods. Then Lawrence gives him that chaste kiss and leaves anyway.

"I love you."

He means it. He does. But he leaves anyway.

Adam hates him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, his eyes pricking and his soul swelling with the black and the angry and he hates, hates, hates.

_If he ever tries to fucking leave again, I'm going to tie him to the bed and set the house on fire. _

xxxxxxxxxxx

Lawrence is so tired. It really shouldn't be humanly possible to be this tired.

Of course, that can be because most humans go to sleep long before they get this tired. But Lawrence chooses to ignore that.

Jesus, the letters on the chart are swimming back and forth. Maybe he should finish this tomorrow.

_No. No. _

Lawrence leans his head into his hand and determinately puts the pen to the paper again. He needs to finish this. It's just a damn updating of a chart. It needs to be there when the patient's post-op doctor comes in tomorrow. It _has _to. He knows he can finish it tomorrow, or dump it on the on-call nurse, since hell, most people in this hospital would do anything to keep him from burning himself out, but he can't.

It has to be him. Always has to be him.

Then Lawrence feels his head dropping in momentarily unconsciousness, the momentary bliss of just sleeping, sleeping and not thinking. He sighs, too tired to do any of the nervous fidgeting with the pen he usually does when he tries to make a decision, but eventually grumbles something and takes the chart with him to the on-call room.

_Anyone else would've finished it. _

Lawrence lies down on a bed. The hard, squeaking mattress feels like heaven.

_Anyone else would've finished it. Even people who haven't sawed off their feet. Don't you want to save as many as you can when you lived through that?_

Lawrence rolls over to the side. It's getting harder to keep his eyes shut.

He's so tired.

_You can't even do this. You can't do this even though you've been given a second chance. _

Lawrence squeezes his eyes shut. Should fall asleep. Doesn't.

Please. He's so tired. Please.

_You're useless. You're useless. _

Lawrence sits up, puts his lab coat on and grabs his chart on the way out.

He's going to finish this. Uselessness is all the encouragement he needs.


	5. Warning Signs

**A/N: Heyhey, everybody! I hope you had a good holiday! :) And you know what Santa Stella's going to get you for Christmas? ANGST! XD I hope you'll like it! **

**4: Warning Signs**

Why would he think when there's so much that he has to _do? _

When Lawrence first started working here, he was a baby-faced intern. A kid. The procedures were new, exciting and tingly in a way that almost hurt, almost scary, but just almost. A lot of his fellow course members broke down almost every day, because everything was so scary, but not Lawrence. He was young, ambitious and had a rich father who would disown him if he didn't become one of the top five people in the entire universe. He was thrilled with every new procedure, he was happy to do it when one of his classmates collapsed. And the residents were happy to have him there, it was nice to have an intern that wasn't just dead weight. They showed him that, little hints like getting him coffee but not the others, affirmative smiles when he did something right, which was often.

He sucked it all in, every appreciative glance. And he was so caught up in this new, exciting world that it didn't leave him any time to think.

That was then.

Lawrence has done all these goddamn procedures. He's operated on every fucking tumor there is. He has all the thinking time in the world, because he doesn't think about the procedures anymore. The patients are objects, not people. He still has to save them, all of them, but that doesn't mean that they're human. And it doesn't mean that his mind isn't blank when he operates on them.

Lawrence spends his days thoughtlessly. He works on experience, and on that chilling, drooping feeling in his stomach that he get when he _can't _save them all. But thinking? No.

But since he has all the time in the world to think, why doesn't he send a thought to someone else he has to save, the half of him that he doesn't know he's missing, because he takes for granted that it's still going to be there when he chooses to come home?

Adam is afraid to ask.

Lawrence hasn't thought about the question.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam is at home. And big fucking surprise, Lawrence is, too. And yes, Adam was going to put an ultimatum, he was going to have Lawrence's stuff packed up the second he thought that thought about putting the house on fire if he left him again, but as it is, Adam's weak, lonely and Lawrence is okay in bed, so he's staying a little longer.

Just a little longer.

Adam's lying on the couch, reads a book. He's not as dejected as he could be. Tonight has been nice. Lawrence has made dinner, Adam has done more hurt than help in the kitchen and Lawrence has laughed at his jokes, they've made out on the counter with the steaks sizzling next to them, oil spattering, slippery and hot.

Lawrence is therefore excused for working on his charts. Adam knows he would've done it anyway, but he tries not to think about it. Not thinking seems to be the way they go about things.

"You know, I can't figure this out," Lawrence says and turns around in his chair. "I have this patient who's had spinal surgery, and high blood pressure, but shows no response to treatment against sepsis."

Adam puts his book down on his chest and tries to determine if he's serious. When Lawrence shows no sign of laughter, in fact, he looks pretty annoyed, Adam snorts and puts his hand behind his head.

"Why are you asking me this, Lawrence?"

Lawrence actually smiles briefly and rakes his hand through his hair. Adam hasn't noticed the circles under his eyes before.

"I don't know. In lack of better option, I guess. Just like with sex."

Adam gives him a fake annoyed glance, tries to pretend like the loving insults aren't just another thing he sucks in like a sponge.

"You'd be lost without me, and you know it," he says and picks up his book again.

He wonders if Lawrence hears the uncertain question mark that follows that sentence.

Lawrence turns back to his chart. His smile is already gone, and Adam feels the frustration growing next to him.

It's okay for another ten minutes. Then he hears a frustrated growl, and Lawrence throws his head back, puts both hands in his hair.

"_Fuck!" _he sputters, and Adam hurries up from the couch and up to Lawrence.

"It's okay."

"It's not _fucking _okay!" Lawrence exclaims and gestures feebly against the stack of paper in front of him. "I need to get this done before I come in tomorrow! And I _can't _figure this out!"

"Calm down," Adam says in his most soothing voice and puts both arms around Lawrence's neck. "Just calm down."

He snuggles his nose into Lawrence's neck, tries to breathe warmly, relax him. Lawrence eventually sighs dejectedly and puts one hand on the side of Adam's head.

"Thanks, Adam," he says and turns to the side to kiss him on the lips.

Adam decides that the situation is clear, straightens up and smiles to himself as he walks back to the couch. He's needed.

It's fine again. For a few minutes, and Adam counts those minutes, because that's all he gets, all he fucking gets, so what else is he going to do but take care of them. But after those minutes, and those words -

"Maybe I should get a drink."

- passes Lawrence's lips, Adam is glad he counted them.

Adam pretends to keep reading. He knows that Lawrence is indirectly asking for permission but in the meantime not even asking. He wants attention, he needs it more than Adam needs his cigarettes. But Adam's trying not to give him too much. At least not in cases like these.

Even though his insides get cold. Those memories come back. Those fucking memories.

_Maybe I should get a drink. _

"No," he says as calmly as his mental state allows. "No more drinks. Not tonight, and not ever. Keep fidgeting with your charts."

Lawrence sighs, like he's disappointed. Even though he knew damn well what Adam was going to answer. Adam knows that it's part of his addiction. He hasn't been home for a whole day this week, he doesn't need to give a shit about Adam, it's just Adam who's supposed to be there at every given moment he needs a little confirmation.

That's just how it is, isn't it?

Adam turns page in his book. He ignores Lawrence when he keeps working, or tries to. Tries to not give him too much attention, even though he follows every goddamn move his pen makes, every change in his sitting position.

If he even tries to approach the cabinet over the fridge where they keep the liquor, Adam is prepared to hit him over the head with a lamp.


	6. Lennon's Flawed Logic

**A/N: Damn, this fic has gotten neglected… Sorry about that. All these stupid OneShots calling for me… Either way, it's finally updated! Hope you'll like it! **

**5: Lennon's Flawed Logic**

Their whole relationship is one long _used to. _

Isn't that all he has now days? Memories? It's not like present is overly good. If Adam had gotten into their relationship the way it is now, he would've dodged pretty quickly. Spending day after day hoping that your boyfriend might actually _touch_ you today… Not exactly a dreamland.

It's the memories that make him stay. Maybe that wouldn't be enough for the Adam he was before Lawrence, but since Lawrence actually awakened some kind of hope in him, they're enough now. Because it's the hope that makes Adam wake up every morning and think: _Maybe today… _

Adam still waits for that hope to die. But it doesn't seem to get at all affected by all the times he goes to sleep without Lawrence. All it does it absorb those rare, rare moments of joy.

When Lawrence calls him from work. When he's home on a Saturday night.

Then a new little ball of hope is hatched in Adam's stomach. A new, flimsy, staggering little thing wakes up and starts wobbling around in there.

A new thing that hurts enough to permanently damage him when Lawrence kills it again, but not enough to finally get him to pack his fucking things and leave.

One of Lawrence's _use to_s is what he did when him and Adam went to bed. Those days when they actually slept _together. _Lawrence was usually in bed before him, reading something important with his stupid reading glasses on the tip of his nose, and then Adam would come in wearing his sweatpants and lied down next to him. And Lawrence would put his important thing away because Adam was more important, rolled over to his side and ran two fingers over Adam's cheek.

"Just let me look at you," he'd mumble, and Adam blushed, even though it wasn't like Lawrence didn't know what he looked like at this point.

And then Lawrence pulled the blanket from Adam's body and ran his fingers from top to bottom, through the fondly strands of hair, down over his cheek, over the collarbones, chest, stomach, hips, thighs, shinbones, and then counted all his toes, just to make sure they were all still there. Then he'd lie back down next to Adam again, Adam would put his hand on his cheek and they'd have sex while the streetlamp outside shone dully over them and the seconds that ticked by on Lawrence's watch on the nightstand didn't matter.

They matter now. For some weird reason.

Nothing is different now. Which makes it even weirder how everything's changed.

There is not one inch of Adam's body that Lawrence hasn't touched, kissed, ran his index finger over just because he wanted to look at him. And Adam is still in bed every night, he still loves Lawrence, and all in all, all the aspects allowing Lawrence to still be there and look at him… They're still there. He still can do it. It's just that he doesn't.

Adam finds that he cares less and less every day, though.

Lawrence convenient numbness is rubbing off on him.

But if Lawrence ever mentions getting a drink again, Adam's really going to kick him out. He's not sure if he can handle another round.

xxxxxxxxxx

Lawrence calls Adam at work that day. Adam tries to sound as happy as he usually is when he does that, but he's pretty annoyed. It's one thing that he's anxious when Lawrence is home, since his will to make every moment last forever is damn near unnerving, but now, because of Lawrence's stupid drink-comment the other night, he has to be worried sick when Lawrence is at work, too. Even though if there's any place he's happy, - and by this, sober - it's there.

He almost expects Lawrence to answer like he used to. That slurred, sleazy voice that he hates so much.

But he doesn't. Lawrence is sober, and he sounds almost loving. Adam feels the icy exterior on his heart melting a bit, not minding that this is all the warmth it's going to get for the rest of the week. Lawrence talks about nurses that annoy him, a schizophrenic patient he had this morning. Adam can laugh with him, talk somewhat naturally, and try to ignore than only slightly desperate grip he has on the phone.

"How are things at home?" Lawrence asks, and Adam sees him raking his fingers through his hair. Even though he doesn't really see him.

"As usual," Adam says and looks around. "A little more boring without you here."

Lawrence snorts.

"Yeah, I miss that boring place…" he says, almost under his breath. Adam shouldn't get as excited about that as he does.

"The boring place misses you," he mumbles and stares at the edge of the coffee table.

Lawrence smiles. Adam sees that, too.

"You mean _you_ miss me," he says, with just maybe a little sad edge to his tone.

"Of course I do," Adam says with an embarrassed chuckle. "I don't know how you define a good relationship, but I'd like for us to have some kind of contact other than an occasional phone call."

Wow, doesn't he have balls. It's been a while since he managed to get that close to collapsing at Lawrence's feet and begging him to stay home, which is what he really wants to do.

Lawrence is quiet for a bit. Then he sighs heavily, and Adam immediately regrets saying anything.

"I know."

Wow. Lawrence doesn't answer something about being paged in a cool voice. He's actually heard what he said. Maybe he really did read that book Adam gave him.

"I miss you, too. Of course I miss you. It's just… I feel like I should try to be here at the hospital… Now that I'm back on my feet again after… You know."

Adam nods, even though Lawrence can't see it. The pain is pure and burning in a way he'd almost forgotten how to feel, that kind that makes the throat soar and the corners of his mouth get pulled down. That childlike pain of old wounds being torn up.

"Yeah, I get it," he presses out.

"You sure?"

_Saying it's okay when it's killing you inside. _

Lawrence hears when he's lying. He doesn't hear it now. Maybe he doesn't want to.

"It's fine," Adam says and pulls on the ends of his hair. "I just… Come home soon, okay?"

"Of course," Lawrence says, and he means it, he does. "I'll be home tonight, okay? I promise."

"Okay."

Pause. _Fuck, _why does it have to hurt so much?

"You okay, Adam?"

"Mm."

No, he's not. Lawrence hears it now, too. The tears welling up, warm and searing, they make his voice creak. Not even Lawrence can ignore it, and lord knows he's good at ignoring things when he wants to.

"Adam."

"Yeah."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Shaky inhale. "I just miss you. You're never home. I miss having you here. I'm glad you're… Sober now, but I was hoping you could be sober… With me. At home."

"Adam…"

That soothing voice, his promises. Damn them both for waking that stupid hope in him again.

"Baby, I'll be home tonight. And we'll talk. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to be sad. I'll come home, I promise… Damn it, stop it, you're making me cry…"

Adam chuckles embarrassedly and puts his hand in his back pocket. The warmth spreading in his chest is more than he's dared to feel in a long time.

For a while, they just sit there and listen to each other's breathing, that intimacy that used to be there every day comes back just to remind Adam of how much he's missed it. Then Lawrence takes a deep breath, and Adam's kind of pleased to her that his is kind of shaky, too.

"I'll be home in a few hours," he says. "And we'll talk about… Everything. Is that okay?"

Adam nods to himself.

"Yeah."

"Okay."

"Good." Pause. "I love you."

Adam smiles stupidly.

"Love you too, man."

"See you."

"Bye."

Adam hangs up. Doesn't even bother to wipe the tears from his cheeks, just sits down, head in his hands, rocks back and forth like a mental patient.

_If we're supposed to love as if there's no tomorrow, why does he run from me? _

_If love is all we need, then how do I survive without him, how do I live without the one thing I've ever loved? _

Adam presses his palms against his eyes. Okay. Okay.

He's going to have to talk to Lawrence. Really talk.

About the constant working, and what lead up to it. His hope that never dies but his will to live that's slowly fading.

Him and Lawrence are going to have _the talk. _And no matter how it goes, Adam's going to get rid of one constant source of pain.

Whether it's Lawrence's constant working. Or his life itself.

One of them has to go.


	7. Together Always In Death

**A/N: I am baaaack with a new chapter! You've all missed me horribly, have you not? ;) I know I've missed this, at least, so… Hope you'll like it!**

**6: Together Always In Death**

Since it takes Lawrence a couple of hours before he gets back home, Adam's remote calmness manages to get pretty worked up before he hears the keys in the lock and literally jumps off the couch. It's not until Lawrence comes in with a sweet but distant smile on his lips that Adam realizes that he might not give the most relaxed impression.

"Hey," Lawrence says and kisses Adam briefly with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," Adam says and hopes that his voice sounds normal, he doesn't have the energy to listen himself. "How, uh… How was work?"

"Well, I had a hard time staying focused…" Lawrence says and tosses his coat over the couch's armrest. "Thinking about what you'd said."

Adam doesn't know what to answer, so he just smiles sheepishly. He hates himself for it, hates that he can't even get into his thick fucking head that it's _Lawrence _they're going to discuss, _Lawrence _that's the problem, and the fact that Adam's words got through to him so much that he couldn't even focus on his precious surgeries is a good thing, so Adam… Adam shouldn't feel guilty about it the way he does.

He still does, though. Of course he does.

"You can't call and sound like that, Adam," Lawrence says with his hands on his hips. "Christ, I get worried, don't you get that?"

_You worry? You still care that much? I'll throw a fucking parade, you bastard. Or we can sit here and talk about how _I _get _you _worried and everything's my fault. Poor thing. Poor you. Your life is such a fucking tragedy. I hate you. Fucking bastard. _

"What was it?" Lawrence asks and puts his hand on Adam's cheek. "Was it just today that was hard, or have you felt like this for a long time?"

Adam shakes his head briefly, rubs his hairline and sits down. When he looks at Lawrence, he has, for the first time in years, no trouble at all to make his tone sound bitter and accusing.

"What do you think, Lawrence?"

"I don't know," Lawrence says and forces Adam with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I don't get it. That's why you have to talk to me."

He still hasn't come home from work. His eyes are still there. They look at Adam and see a patient, not a boyfriend. Not the one he's supposed to spend the rest of his life with. _Supposed… _

"I'm worried about you," Adam says and clasps his hands tightly in his lap, it feels weird to his usually casual posture. "You're never home, you work twenty-four-seven and when you're home, all you do is eat a lot of yogurt and go to sleep, and then you run off again in the morning. You're wearing yourself out. And you're not the guy I… Fell in love with anymore."

There's a pause, the words land between them. Lawrence nods slowly, exhales. Tries to think of a good answer.

The answer doesn't necessarily have to be relevant to what Adam said at all. It just has to be _good. _

"Adam, I thought you knew…" Lawrence says, sits down next to him and leans his elbow against the back of the couch. "When we got together, I assumed that you were prepared for this. My work is very important to me. I can't drop it just for you."

Adam tries not to roll his eyes when he shakes his head. He was hoping that this wouldn't turn into a fight, but Lawrence probably won't allow it. He wants it to be one.

If this becomes a fight, it'll be easy to blame Adam's stupidity for all this.

"Did it sound to you like I was telling you to quit?" he snaps, and Lawrence is already getting those shields over his eyes and it scares Adam when he realizes that he hasn't seen his eyes without them for a long, long time. "The only thing I'm asking of you is to cool down."

Lawrence takes a deep breath, looks at him under furrowed brows. In that way that's supposed to make Adam feel like a kid.

"Define cool down," he says calmly.

"What don't you get?" Adam snaps. "When was the last time you spent the whole day at home? Or, correction, when was the last time you spent the whole day with me and didn't _wish _you were at work? When was the last time you were happy to see me?"

That stuck. It hit somewhere, he sees it in Lawrence's eyes.

_Is there any sore spots left in you, Lawrence? _

That thought sticks in Adam.

It hurts more than it should do.

"What are you talking about?" Lawrence says, finally raising his voice a little. "I'm always happy to see you, I… I love you."

"Yeah, you do, don't you?" Adam says, new pain comes up to the surface, pain he didn't know he felt. "Because I'm the only one who puts up with you. Any sane person would've walked out on you by now, but I stay, Adam stays, because Adam's so fucking adorably stupid that he puts up with anything, and that's convenient as hell, isn't it?"

Lawrence just stares at him for a second.

All those nights. With Adam in the living room. Lawrence in the kitchen.

"Is that what you think this is?" Lawrence says, softer now. "You think you're my rebound boyfriend? Is this what these years have been worth to you?"

Adam shakes his head slowly.

"It's not about what I think. I… I love you, Larry. But what _you _think… Yeah, I'm your rebound boyfriend. I'm the one keeping you sane when you lose it like that, and that's great, but it's not worth watching you burn yourself out."

Those nights with Lawrence in the kitchen. Hearing the drunken wailing, the alcohol splashing softly in the bottle.

He couldn't do anything. It hurt as much every time he realized that.

"Do I look burned out to you?" Lawrence exclaims and stands up. "I'm a doctor, I work long hours, and sometimes they call me in on my days off! Christ, Adam, is this that much of a surprise to you?"

"Don't fucking do this," Adam hisses and stands up also. "Don't try to pretend like it's _work _that makes you flip, because we both know that you'd be the same if you were a janitor or a fucking cashier, because it's not even about saving people, it's about the fact that you think that _you _suck, that _you _should've saved us in the bathroom, and work just happen to be a damn good place to take that all out on!"

"Don't give me the second-grade psychology!" Lawrence yells, but his gaze is faltering. "So, yeah, I'm a workaholic, and it can have something to do with the bathroom. Fucking shoot me. And if that's the case, why aren't you supporting me, huh? What the hell would it help if I _cooled down?" _

He makes the words sound so dirty. The words Adam said in deepest and sincerest well-meaning turn into insults in his mouth.

"I _am _being supportive!" Adam says. tries to connect, puts a hand on his shoulder and seeks his gaze. "In case you haven't noticed, I've been working my ass off trying to be there for you! Fuck, it's what I'm doing right now! What kind of crappy person would I be if I let you go on the way you do?"

"Yeah, what's going to happen then, Adam?" Lawrence snaps, Adam already feels himself shrinking. "Am I going to _die _from working late hours? Is it _lethal _to work? Because if so, every doctor out there is in danger of their lives, wouldn't you say?"

Lawrence in the kitchen. The drunken wailing.

Adam couldn't do anything. He could never do anything.

He still can't.

"Yes, I am, in fact," Adam says. The tears are burning in his throat again. "And even if I weren't… If you love me as much as you say you do…"

He could never save Lawrence.

He was dead the second Adam first touched him.

"…Why don't _you_ want to be here for _me?"_ Adam finishes.

Hell, he even dares to put his hand on Lawrence's arm again. Even though the short distance between them feels like the bottomless pit at this point. Even though they're already doomed.

Lawrence looks back at him. A brief second of longing, when he actually wants to reach out and touch him, Adam feels it, Lawrence wants to be with him right then. With Adam, not just the rebound boyfriend.

And then his bare, open eyes shut with a bang.

"Thanks a lot," Lawrence says bitterly when he walks past him. "A big fat guilt-trip, that's your idea of support, isn't it?"

The door is shut before Adam manages to say that no, he doesn't have to give guilt-trips, he won't ever open his mouth again, he'll drive Lawrence to work himself and never even imply that he's unhappy, as long as Lawrence stays with him.

How much simpler life would be if he could just stop thinking that he deserved anything.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam had a nightmare a while back. When he woke up from it, he was so terrified that he didn't care that he'd had to calm himself down after his nightmares for the past years, he called Lawrence at work, he had to talk him back to sleep.

He dreamt that Lawrence was a cannibal.

They were in the living room, Lawrence had his back facing him. Adam thought that he was crying, so he put a hand on his shoulder, and bam. Lawrence turned around, clamped down on the hand, shook it back and forth a few times, and then it was torn off.

Lawrence then retreated to a corner, gnawing at the hand, pleased with himself. Omnomnomnom. And while Adam stood there with his bleeding stump, he did nothing but watch as Lawrence ate his hand, just because it made Lawrence happy. Adam couldn't say no to him then. Even though the blood was gushing, they were about to drown in it, both of them.

It wasn't until they're both almost dead that Adam discovered that it was his own hand Lawrence has been eating, both Adam's hands were intact. And the worst part was, not even then could he get himself to leave Lawrence there.

Lawrence was the one who brought him back to life. And he knows that Lawrence wouldn't have lived this long if Adam hadn't been there.

If they're going to kill themselves, they might as well do it together.


	8. A Moment Is All You Get

**A/N: There should be a vaccine against writing things way ahead of when you're going to post them… I wrote this about six months back, and back then, it was damn Nobel prize-worthy, but now, I think it sucks. XD I leave that judgment up to you, though. Hope you'll like it! **

**7: A Moment Is All You Get**

They never fight. That's the one of the few good thing about their relationship now.

Adam might've considered it a bad thing a few years back. Before. When he spent his days fighting against everything and everyone, kicking and screaming while the only thing he was really fighting against was himself, his own self-hatred. But fighting against everything didn't seem like much of a problem when everything sucked, and if everything went away, at least he'd have his loneliness. And cigarettes.

The reason he'd stopped fighting when Lawrence entered his life was that Lawrence was something he could lose. He realizes that now.

He could've spoken up earlier. He could've gotten Lawrence off the booze, convinced him that he was good enough without saving all those lives. He could've. If Lawrence hadn't been the only thing he lived for.

He cared so much about Lawrence that he let him ruin himself to the level that he could've just as well stuck a tiny pin into his heart every time he went to work. Kind of stupid, really.

Adam curses out loud when he bangs the thermostat with his fist. Any material object would be good enough for him to produce his anger on right now, but since the thermostat really _is _broken, it's even better. He feels the tiny hairs on his arms standing up against the cold that's creeping in, and he keeps hitting the damn thing, harder and harder, stupid anger, stupid thermostat.

He thinks about how cold the apartment always is without Lawrence.

He thinks about the cold between them when he left this morning.

The cold. Always the damn cold.

And when you see it like that, it makes more sense that a broken thermostat drives him to a point damn close to panic, and he hits into the wall instead, screams into the air out of pain and frustration and then takes two big strides up to the couch and sits down with his head in his hands, all this in a matter of a second, when he realizes what this is really about.

Lawrence. The love of his life. Trapped in that damn cold.

Adam sighs heavily and takes his hands out of his hair and puts them together in front of his lips. Okay. Okay.

In both the literal and the metaphorical meaning of the word, Lawrence is the only one of the two of them that has any kind of knowledge in fixing these things. And he may be mad at Adam right now, but he can't leave him like this.

The heater is broken, damn it. It needs to be fixed.

xxxxxxxxxxx

It's at times like these that Lawrence is truly grateful that he has a work to get off to. Hell, to be honest, it's the _only_ time he's grateful.

He has mixed feelings about his work. He says that he loves it, even though on a deeper level, he hates his work from the inner, deepest core of his hatred. And on an even deeper level, he needs it to stay alive. It's only times like these that he's genuinely grateful that he can go here.

When he has something at home to run away from. It's always been like that. Usually, it's his own nameless anxiety and fear of failure that follows him wherever he goes, he doesn't get away from that just by going here, but once in a while, this place actually heals him, rather feeding him empty promises about his value as a person.

When there's something at home that he's failed with, whether it's being a good husband, raising his daughter, or being there for someone who needs him, he can go here, and he's instantly redeemed. He can fix things here, where things are so much more logical than humans and relationships. And he doesn't have to think about the things he's broken.

He loves his work right now. Surgeries have never been so fulfilling. But of course, Adam has to ruin that, too.

"Doctor Gordon?" one of the nurses he's slept with says politely, when he's by the nurses' station to get the chart for his next patient. "Phone for you. It's Adam."

Lawrence fidgets with his chart and slowly blows out air through pursed lips. He thinks about telling her to say that he's not here, but Adam must've heard her say Lawrence's name. Whatever. As long as it doesn't take long. He walks up to the receiver that the nurse is holding out and tries to think about keeping his tone as clipped as possible.

"Yeah?"

"Hey," Adam says. He doesn't even try to sound normal, he's never been much for sugarcoating. "Can you come home?"

Lawrence eyes over at the nurse who gave him the phone. She pretends she's not eavesdropping.

"You know I can't," Lawrence replies coolly. "And the question is, why should I?"

"What part of my little rant last night didn't you understand?" Adam bites back sharply. "You're running yourself out, you're a few days away from a heart attack, I love you and I don't want to see that happening to you."

Lawrence feels whatever bitter, cold thing that's slowly crept as a thick shell around his heart over the years grow a little thicker. And as much as he likes to pretend that this is aimed towards Adam, it's when the shell grows thicker that the voice in his head gets stronger. And eviler.

_You're useless. Useless. _

"Is that all?" with the shell around his voice, too.

Adam sighs. It crackles in the phone.

"No. In fact, it wasn't even related. I need you to come home and fix the thermostat."

Lawrence chuckles, without a trace of joy in his voice.

"That's what I'm going to give up work for?"

"You'd say the same thing if I called and said that Russian spies had come here and tortured me for information," Adam says. He's good at sounding bitter, too. "I suck at this, and if I had to wait for you to come home voluntarily, there's going to be polar bears walking around in the living room. So get over here and fix it, okay?"

Pause. Even in his sedated state, Lawrence hears the undertone of despair in Adam's voice when he speaks up again.

"I suck at this, you know that. You have to help me."

Pause. A glance at his watch.

"Right now?"

"When you can."

Lawrence sighs again.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

"Great."

They hang up without saying goodbye.

xxxxxxxxxxx

By the time Lawrence gets there, it's so cold that Adam's breath forms a white cloud in front of his face.

He's covered up in basically every blanket they have in the apartment, but his breath is still shivering, ragged little bursts. He's always had a hard time staying warm, he spent the majority of his upbringing in a blanket that his mom had knitted that was his most beloved possession before he got his camera. Too little body fat.

So why was that only a problem before he met Lawrence?

Adam feels his tear ducts freezing up.

Why can nothing good ever stay?

There's a soft click when Lawrence opens the door. Adam almost jumps. Lawrence steps inside, with that slight irritation in his expression that he always seems to have when he has to be home. His eyes find Adam on the couch.

Adam starts crying again. It's so stupid, but he does.

How else is he going to get Lawrence to see him? Because it does work, even Lawrence can't brace himself when he sees his tears. Not because he remembers how much he's hurt Adam, but because remembers how much those tears used to hurt him.

Adam's happiness used to be so important to him. He could schedule his shifts so that he'd get to see his smile before he left in the morning.

But that was before the cold, hard shell took over.

That was then.

Adam slowly stands up from the couch. The blankets drop from his shoulders, and he looks oddly exposed, naked, with only the cold fog of his breath in the cold to cover himself with. He takes baby steps towards Lawrence, and as he's walking he remembers something Lawrence said to him long ago, something he'd read in a book. A Stephen King book. _She thought, as she'd thought before, that the mixture of heat and cold silver could kill her with its feverish beauty. _

Lawrence loved Stephen King. And Adam thinks, as he's in front of Lawrence after what feels like an eternity, that if he ever gets him to sit down long enough for him to actually finish a book again, he will never roll his eyes when Lawrence reads a quote he likes out loud.

Adam's approaching him again, but Lawrence is coming to his senses at this point, that expression is coming back. He's supposed to be mad at Adam. He's going to be. Despite the fact that he knows which one of them has hurt the other one the most over the years.

"Adam…" he begins, careful not to make eye contact with him.

Adam cuts him off with a burning, glistening look. Lawrence turns away again.

"Adam, I have to get back…"

"No…" Adam says in a low, thick voice, keeps walking towards him. "Please… Stay…"

He's so close now, his pale hands are slowly reaching for Lawrence, needing him. Lawrence subconsciously backs away until his back hits the door.

"Adam…"

"Lawrence…" Adam mumbles and closes his eyes briefly when hands find warm flesh. "It's cold…"

Lawrence opens his mouth, trying to give himself an excuse to get out of this, but Adam goes on by slipping his cold hand into Lawrence's shirt, slowly pressing against him, greedy for his warmth, and for once, they're together on his conditions.

Lawrence bristles when he feels Adam's cool touch, he's close to pulling his hand away, but when Adam stands up on his toes and nuzzles in against his neck, something new is reawakened in him.

Or, it's not even new. It's always been there. He's almost started missing it by now.

Adam's tears get caught in his eyelashes when he closes his eyes and starts kissing Lawrence's neck, unbuttons his shirt to get more of the heat he's missed so much, to defrost himself but also somehow melting Lawrence, because he knows he can, no matter how cold he is or how fucked up his life happens to be, he can, and he will, he will melt him. Please melt. Please.

Lawrence isn't even sure how it happens. It seems like this was a fight he couldn't win to begin with, since this is an urge that the cold, hard shell has kept inside him for so long, kept under control but not managed to kill. But before he's even had a chance to reason with himself, his hands are creeping up, remembering every step he makes with his fingers, this is the one, this is the body he's missed so much, until he finds the back of Adam's head, where he gently grabs his hair to pull him back from where he's working on his neck, and look into his eyes.

Adam isn't crying anymore. But the despair is still there. And Lawrence has actually started to care about it.

"It's cold… It's so cold…"

Slowly, like it's the very first time, Lawrence lowers his head to Adam's level, parts his lips and kisses him. Tastes him in a completely new way, since he tastes every tear that Adam's swallowed, every bitter thought and every hateful glance against Lawrence's back when he leaves him, because Lawrence has left him so many times, again and again.

Lawrence will show him how sorry he is about all this later on. But right now, it just makes him want to apologize to Adam in a different way, it kills his control and even his will to keep it as he deepens the kiss, tongue roaming tongue, the dark, hidden cavern that he's missed, _fuck, _he's missed him so much…

Until now, Adam has unbuttoned Lawrence's shirt in a manner like he didn't want him to notice he was doing it, but when he feels Lawrence's kisses get harder and his touches getting bolder, it feels more okay to claw at Lawrence's chest in a haphazard attempt to get him even closer, and when the constriction is gone, he shamelessly runs his hands over every trace of naked skin he can find, the moans that ripple through his fingertips defrost his cold hands, and mere seconds later when Lawrence has gotten Adam's shirt away, Adam feels, with a relief that's almost enough to make him cry again, the ice that's coated him, too, the ice that is his resentment towards Lawrence, melt away in the heat of their bodies.

The thin mist of Lawrence's self-destruction between them is gone. They're close to each other again.

His inhibitions completely gone now, Lawrence turns them around, presses Adam against the front door, not knowing how much could be heard through the thin wood and not caring, either. He runs his hands longingly over Adam's chest, rediscovering those rare, purely lustful moments that only Adam seems to bring out of him, relishing the gasp when he nudges his legs apart with his knee and presses it against the growing lump between his thighs.

"Not so cold anymore, is it?" he murmurs before hungrily delving into Adam's mouth again.

Their pants come off minutes later, as a result of desperate clawing fingers and kicking legs, Adam is reluctant to break their lip-contact for even seconds, but when Lawrence plunges into him, he cranes his head back and groans harder than Lawrence thought him capable of, feels so filled up but still wanting more, like when you've been starved for so long that you don't even feel the hunger anymore until that first bite lands in your stomach, brings it back to life.

Lawrence wastes only a second of leaning his forehead against Adam's shoulder and panting unevenly before he straightens up and keeps fumbling over Adam's body, every touch bringing him to a new level of awe as he finds what he lost, remembers what he's forgotten and keeps thrusting into Adam, brings them closer and closer.

Adam's body used to be his temple. That used to be the place that healed him, made him forget about the nightmares. Not the hospital.

He remembers that now. His fingers trace their footsteps backwards, rediscovers places he's been before, things he'd forgotten, but he remembers now. He remembers.

When Adam starts to cry out and claw his nails into Lawrence's back, as weird as it sounds, it's the sharp twang of pain through his heart that sends Lawrence toppling over the edge shortly after. The face Adam makes is another revisited memory. The memory of everything that comes after this, the mess that Adam makes, the exhaustion that Lawrence is grateful for, sleeping together afterwards. And then, after that, the waking up in the morning, kissing even though they both have horrible morning breaths, having dinner together at night, watching TV, drinking beer.

Spending their lives together. He's missed all that.

And Lawrence is basically intoxicated, high from the feeling of intimacy and the feeling of Adam, a gratification that the hospital would never be able to give him. But when he pulls out of Adam, puts him back on the ground even though he doesn't remember lifting him up, and plants one last, trembling kiss on his lips, he's trying not to make any promises. He's not a psychologist, but he knows he won't get past this over night.

It's his drug. His addiction. He knows that Adam knows this, but when he looks into his eyes, he still sees a glimpse of optimism, and that's so rare in Adam's eyes now days that he can't bring himself to have that discussion.

Instead, he puts both arms around Adam, tries to maintain the warmth even though their sweat is now lukewarm and clammy rather than hot and sexy and even though he feels the cold from the outside world on the top layer of his skin. And he hopes that Adam, just like him, thinks that this mixture of heath from their intense love and their occasional moments of passion and the cold silver that covers Lawrence's heart could easily be the death of them both, but it's still so damn beautiful, it doesn't really matter.


	9. Watching Him Leave

**A/N: Hellooo… I'm not going to lie to you. This chapter is angsty. Like, really angsty. I sort of hate myself for writing it, in fact... But I know you'll love me either way. I feel so safe in our relationship. ^^ Now read! **

**8: Watching Him Leave**

Everything's going to change now. That's the one thought on Adam's mind as he feels his weight collapsing into the mattress.

He felt it in Lawrence's touch. He may not have spent a whole night with Adam and actually been present for a good three years now, but Adam still knows everything about him. After all, there was once a time when Lawrence was his.

He felt it when he kissed him. Lawrence has finally gotten him, and he's going to start staying home more often now. He's thought that thought a gazillion times before, but this time, it's true.

Adam smiles to himself when he feels Lawrence crawling down next to him. It's only eight o'clock, none of them should be tired. But just getting to sleep in his arms is such an amazing thought that Adam would gladly spend hours pretending to sleep just to feel him next to him. Skin to skin.

And indeed, Lawrence wraps his arms around him. Those arms are a home to Adam, more than this apartment has ever been, and in fact, this is so big to him, so wonderful to actually feel Lawrence's flesh against his and his breath in his hair that he doesn't notice the warning signs he probably would otherwise.

Like Lawrence's shifting eyes. The turning his body so he's always sort of facing the door.

While Adam drifts off in a peaceful sleep for the first time in a long time, he doesn't notice that Lawrence is already looking at his watch.

He has to be back at the hospital by midnight. Hopefully, Adam will still be asleep by then.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam wakes up a couple of hours later. Lawrence was an idiot to think that he could get out of his embrace without him noticing.

"Lawrence?"

Lawrence tries not to sigh when he turns around. Sees Adam in the bed, how confused he looks, and gets instantly, against better knowledge, annoyed.

Once again, Adam doesn't get that this is hard for him, too. If he'd gotten that, he would've pretended to sleep. That would've made it easier for Lawrence, but no. He needs an _explanation. _

"Hey there," Lawrence says and sits down on the edge of the bed. "How… How did you sleep?"

"Fine," Adam says. "You didn't sleep much, did you?"

Lawrence doesn't answer.

"And now you're going straight back to work?"

Lawrence doesn't answer now, either. Adam knows what he'd say, anyway.

"Man, promise me something," Adam goes on and closes his hand around Lawrence's wrist. "Promise me you'll get some help. See a shrink."

Lawrence exhales slowly.

All the things Adam mean to him. How empty life was before him.

"Lawrence," Adam says, softer. "That's the first time I've felt you've loved me… In over two years."

All those years. Those goddamn years.

"Think about it," Adam says. "Fuck knows I'm not big on opening up, but… Just think about it. Think about how much we used to mean to each other. I was everything to you. You still are to me, and… What exactly happened to that?"

All those years. All those years before he met Adam, how empty they were.

The years are much more fulfilled now. It's just Lawrence that's empty.

"Listen," Lawrence answers, puts an awkward hand on Adam's cheek. "You have… _No _idea how much you mean to me. And the fact that you've stuck by me this entire time… I can't even explain… I don't deserve it. You could do so much better than me."

Adam smiles warmly and puts his hand on Lawrence's. That's as close as they can get when Lawrence is this way.

"But I can't," Lawrence finishes off. "You have no idea how long I've… _Lived _for this. It's not just a job, it's… An obsession. I can't let it go just because… My life would be pointless without you."

Their foreheads touch briefly. Close. But not together.

Adam isn't really upset, because he doesn't understand what's Lawrence is saying. Sure, he's not exactly the right person to complain about anyone not showing that they love someone, he's been doing it for as long as he can remember, but… He figured that it'd be different with Lawrence.

He sort of thought that since his love for Lawrence is bigger than most earthly things and has altered his entire life, it'd actually be the same for Lawrence.

He really thought that if Lawrence loved him, he'd be able to stay in it. Not run away.

"But…" he stammers. No real words, just fragments of them. "We love each other. How… Can you not…"

Lawrence shakes his head. Eyes closed.

"I'm sorry."

And then he stands up and leaves. All Adam does is stay in bed, the covers spread carelessly around him, and watch him leave.

Before Lawrence became the way he is now, they'd spend the Friday nights getting drunk and watching some bad movie on TV. And said bad movie usually had a part with the big brooding man walking away, and the damsel in distress staying behind in bed, sobbing for him. And Adam would always roll his eyes and say that that's stupid. Why doesn't she go after him? If she loves him so much, can't she get her ass out of bed to follow?

Adam realizes now. Right now, watching Lawrence leave. He's left him so many times.

The girl stays in bed because her man is already gone. And she wants nothing more than for him to turn around and come back to her, but if he doesn't, what's the use running for him? What's the use, when you know that if he loved her, he would stay?

That's the insight Adam gets when he stays in bed. When he doesn't go after Lawrence.

If Lawrence loved him, he wouldn't have gotten up.

If Lawrence loved him, he'd stayed in bed and made up for all the years Adam has had to sleep alone in it.

xxxxxxxxxxx

"Doctor Gordon, we need to get the appendectomy started."

Lawrence nods as he scrubs his hands thoroughly.

You have to clean your hands with soap for fifteen minutes before you enter the OR, no exceptions. Even if it's an emergency patient, and despite the fact that surgeons must wear gloves for the entirety of the operation.

Surgeons cannot enter the OR with gloves, though. They must be put on inside, and always before picking up the scalpel. Any surgical instrument that's touched with an ungloved hand must be exchanged. Lawrence has repeated these rules before going into surgery for fifteen years. They're easy.

Getting ready for surgery. That's easy.

Appendectomy is an easy procedure. It'll be done in half an hour.

It's all so easy. These wonderful, completely logical things.

Lawrence cringes when the sponge he uses to scrub his hands touches a particularly red, flaked spot on his hand. His skin gets dried out from the surgical soap, he knows this. His skin gets washed raw, cleaned right to the bone. Last year he got such a serious eczema that he couldn't do the dishes at home. Adam had to do it.

When Lawrence was actually there.

_That's not it, is it? _

That goddamn voice. It's enough to drive him crazy sometimes. Some nights in the on-call room, when he's alone enough as it is without having to be alone with that, it seems to want nothing more than to see him go insane.

_Your hands are messed up. Not to mention your stomach, you can barely eat. Insomnia, constant tiredness. Not to mention the fact that you spend most of your time listening to an imaginary voice. _

_You're useless. Useless. _

Lawrence takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a second before he puts the gloves on. The voice in his head is always there, but most of the time, it's just in his head. Now is one of those times when it's so bad that he almost _sees _the voice, embodied in the corner of his eye.

He never looks directly at it, but he knows exactly what it looks like. It reaches his waist, cylinder-shaped, with a flat top. Looks a bit like one of those stupid stools you see in cafés sometimes. The voice doesn't have a face, so he can't tell for sure that it's looking at him when it's standing there. But he knows it does.

It's going to stand by him when he performs this operation. And when he goes home again, if Adam ever lets him, it'll be there when Adam hugs him hello as if he's relieved to see that he's alive. It'll be there when they have dinner in front of the TV, and it'll be there when they make love.

It's always there. Always.

Lawrence shrugs those thoughts off and opens the door to the operating room. This is going to be a good operation. He'll kick ass, save lives. He smiles reassuringly at the nurse standing by the patient, and she just answers with a look with her hand on her hip.

"Doctor Gordon," she says sweetly. "You know you can't enter the OR with your gloves on."

Lawrence notices the gloves on his hands, blushes briefly. He hopes it's not visible that a gaping, black hole of despair opens up in his chest.

"Right," he says and opens the door again. "Sorry…"

The nurse just smiles and goes back to prepping the patient. Lawrence goes outside, throws his used gloves in the trash bin and walks inside again. Smiling.

He hopes it's not visible that he's close to tears. And not tears because he's given up one of the most important people in the world to him, but because he entered the OR with his gloves on.

_You're useless. Useless. _

Lawrence doesn't give a fuck if he loses his boyfriend, or about the fact that he hasn't seen Diana in two weeks. Who cares if foreign powers take over America in this very moment and a Nazi army will be in the government when he finally gets out of here, and who _cares _if every little star falls down or if everything turns dark, if the world in this very moment would implode into nothing?

Who cares, as long as Lawrence remembers not to put the gloves on before he enters the operating room?

Lawrence is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice how worried the nurse looks until she says his name.

"Doctor Gordon," she says and takes a step towards him. "Are you okay?"

Lawrence nods automatically.

"Yeah, sure."

"You sure?"

She has reason to ask. Lawrence probably looks faint long before he himself registers the pain creeping down his left arm.

Lawrence tries to answer her. Say no, maybe he's not feeling that well. But his lips won't obey him, they form a weird, gaping grimace as he grips his chest.

Darkening. Closing in.

Needs to breathe. Why can't he breathe?

_Useless. _

He wants to do something. Panic. Wants to stop this. It can't happen. It's not his time. He needs to fix things first, he needs to… Every trace of thoughts are cut off as Lawrence's heart explodes in his body, explodes and retracts into a tight knot at the same time.

_Useless. _

Lawrence collapses on the ground, too late to fix anything, because if he'd fixed anything before, he wouldn't be where he is right now. As he balls up on sterile linoleum, the mechanic doctor instincts tell him to lean his head back to open up the airways, but his body's in a lockdown, his heart is an functionless, grinding, screaming agony, yes, functionless, because he's having a heart attack, and he knows it's going to stop beating soon.

So many things he still has to fix.

Lawrence Gordon's eyes fall shut right there, in the operating room. The last things he thinks about are Adam, Diana, his mom, and the fact that he still wants to finish the operation.

The last thing he sees is the voice, standing in front of him. He can't tell if it's looking at him. He knows it's looking at him.

The voice is the angel of death, taking him away after his body has caved from the pressure that caved his soul so long ago.


	10. No Resistance Left

**A/N: Helloooo, sweethearts. (I need to come up with a joint name for my readers… If Lady GaGa's fans are 'little monsters,' mine need to be something much more epic! Like… Little Adams. XD) I have a new chapter here, and… Well, I'm sticking with the angst. And I know that "Franzblau" for an OC is just **_**screaming **_**"overly pretentious," but I'm a Friends-fan, and that's the name of the doctor that delivered Ross' son. Yes, I am a nerd. **

**9: No Resistance Left**

Adam hates hospitals. He's hated them ever since he first set foot in one, and he knows right now that he always will.

The first time he was in one of these buildings, it was his sixth birthday, and that nail in his arm. Needles with disinfectant, his mom holding him. _It's okay, baby, stay calm… You don't want the nice doctor to see you cry, now, do you? _The second time, it was the broken nose that his dad had caused him. Mom with him then, too, telling the doctors that he'd fallen down some stairs.

The third time… He doesn't remember much of it. He remembers passing out in the bathroom and waking up god after knows how long, when the SWAT-team had sawed through his chain and gotten him out. And even then, he didn't feel saved. Just blinding light, searing headache. And the knowledge that he might be out, but there were no drugs in the hospital that could keep the nightmares away.

All he really remembers is when he finally got to meet Lawrence again.

Holding him. Sleeping cuddled up next to him during the nights; touching him for the first time without fearing that he would die. That fear came afterwards, when they started their life together and Adam saw what Lawrence did to deal with the pain from their trap.

Adam has always hated hospitals, but chances are good he's never hated them as much as he does right now.

The cup of coffee in front of him is since long finished. Adam still keeps fidgeting with it. He keeps scraping his thumbnail against the same spot again and again, and right when he's actually made a hole in it, the doctor comes out of Lawrence's room. Adam knows he's supposed to jump to his feet right away and ask how Lawrence is, but he doesn't.

In fact, for an outside viewer, it'd seem like they're not together at all. Adam smiles bleakly at the irony.

"Mr. Faulkner?" the doctor says kindly and walks up to him. Adam still doesn't stand up. "Hi. I'm doctor Franzblau, your boyfriend's doctor."

He reaches out his hand. Adam shakes it, and the doctor sits down in the chair in front of him. Adam looks back at him, fully aware that his eyes are dead.

"Lawrence has suffered a heart attack," Franzblau says and puts his elbows on his knees.

"I figured that much," Adam replies coldly.

Franzblau cuts himself off, looks at Adam with polite surprise, and Adam almost grins. _Yeah, that's how little I care about him. _

"…Yeah," Franzblau goes on. "We managed to defibrillate him to get his heart to start beating again. He's alive, but weak."

Adam nods.

"Is he awake?"

"No," Franzblau says. "He's sleeping right now, and on heavy medication. He won't wake up for another couple of hours."

Adam nods again.

"Okay."

"One more thing we need to know," Franzblau says and tries to catch Adam's gaze again, "do you know what could've caused this? There are several factors that can cause strain on the heart. Drugs, for example. An unhealthy diet, anxiety, stress…"

Adam takes his thumbnail, which is still scraping against his coffee cup without him noticing, to his lips, and starts biting it. He doesn't look at the doctor when he answers.

"He was addicted to alcohol about two years back," he says. The words don't sound like they come from his mouth. "He works twelve-hour shifts back to back. At this very hospital, in fact. He tells himself he loves it, but he doesn't. He just needs it to feel like he's worth something."

He stares at the wall opposite him. Lawrence's face stares back at him.

"He's been slowly killing himself for about three years now," he goes on. "It's just his methods that change. It was alcohol at first, then he started working himself to death. I want to help him, but I love him too much and I can't talk back at him. I never could. He has that affect on me. And I'm one weak motherfucker."

He misses Lawrence so much. In the meantime as he doesn't feel anything at all and never will again.

"Can I stay in his room until he wakes up?" he then asks and looks at Franzblau again. He's met with a nod and the look of someone that doesn't dare to question a statement, because there are too many questions to ask and if you start asking, it'll go on forever.

"Of course you can. I'll tell the nurses to bring you a new cup of coffee."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and by the way," Franzblau says as Adam stands up. "Have you talked to Lawrence's daughter and ex-wife? Do you want us to call them?"

_Us. Like the hospital is one, awesome, super-unit. _Adam smiles stupidly at the thought.

"Don't call them until after Lawrence has woken up, please," he says politely. "Lawrence wouldn't want Diana to see him like this." _Even if she's seen him much worse. _

Franzblau smiles. Such a doctor-smile.

"Of course."

Adam nods, and Franzblau walks away. To anyone else, the walk to Lawrence's room would feel like a thousand miles, and opening the room and seeing him there would break them down in a fit of tears.

But not to Adam. He walks unceremoniously up to the door of Lawrence's room, opens it, sits down on the couch next to Lawrence's bed, sees the love of his life lie unconscious on the bed in front of him, with tubes in his nose even more tubes in the back of his hand and comes to the conclusion that yup, he really doesn't feel a damn thing.

It feels like he should've expected this all along. Ever since the beginning. Even then, when they had just gotten together and Adam was the one that was miserable, it was clear that Lawrence wasn't as balanced as he liked to pretend; that was the act he put up because that's what Adam needed right then.

In the beginning of their relationship, Adam was the one that needed saving. Lawrence would come home after work and find him huddled up in the closet, eyes staring in front of him but not seeing, mumbling incoherently, anxiously, Lawrence would have to gently pull him out of there and drag him around the apartment to convince him that Jigsaw was not there. He had to prescribe antidepressants for him just to make him get out of bed in the morning, and of course, when Adam was in that stage, Lawrence couldn't let all his demons out.

It wasn't until Adam had actually started trust Lawrence's love for him and feel _safe, _that Lawrence, ironically enough, started letting out what he'd kept inside all along.

It started off so innocently. Adam wasn't exactly the one to turn down a bear at the end of the day, why would he say no when Lawrence started offering? Even if even he thought it was a bit much to have not one beer, but four, and not at the end of some days, but every day?

And that was just the beginning. Even Adam, in his emotionally numb state, wants to cover his ears at the memories even though the screams aren't coming from outside but, in his head. Those nights when Adam was sitting in the living room because he couldn't stand to be around Lawrence when he was like that, drunkenly sobbing and whining about what he could've done differently. And then afterwards, when Adam had to drag Lawrence out of his chair to get him to bed and saw the half-moon shaped, red little wounds of his own nails on his palms, marks from Lawrence trying to clutch to what little fucking life he had left when he always had to run from it, because apparently, the life Adam could offer him wasn't enough.

Adam leans back against the couch and watches Lawrence, tries to focus on something to make the memories drift out. If this is all the entertainment he gets for another few hours, it's fine. This is the last time he's going to see Lawrence, anyway. Might as well take it in.

After Lawrence has woken up and Adam has told him that they're done, Adam's going to go home and slit his wrists. And this isn't a dramatic realization to him at all, he's been thinking about it for a couple of hours now. Ever since that slightly panicky nurse called him and told him what had happened.

After all, he doesn't have many options left. He made it pretty clear to himself by the life he lived before Lawrence. He can't live without him. Just as little as he can stand to watch Lawrence kill himself, again and again. Sitting there in the corner, gnawing on his own hand, with his blood filling the room.

Adam lets his head fall back. Breathes heavily for a few seconds before he hears, to his annoyance, that his breathing is in perfect synch with Lawrence's.

Even when he's almost dead, they share an undeniable bond.

xxxxxxxxxxx

When Lawrence wakes up, Adam should be the first thing on his mind. Just like he was the last thing on his mind before his heart stopped.

That would've been the more romantic way to do it, wouldn't it. Lawrence would wake up, sit up straight and wildly search the room for Adam, and when he saw him on the couch next to him, he'd leap out of bed, fly into his arms, and there'd be a tearful reunion.

That would be the better way to do it. But of course, Adam and Lawrence have never done anything the better way in their relationship. They fuck around, they don't do anything right, and at the end of the day, the only ones that would put up with them are each other.

But Lawrence doesn't think any of that when he wakes up. In fact, it takes him a good three minutes to realize that he's awake. And even then, he just lies there, blinks a few times, feels the lingering drowsiness and knows that he must be pretty doped up. Asking himself what happened and how he got here is useless, he realizes that. Instead, out of a complete coincidence, he turns to the side, and sees Adam sitting on the couch.

Lawrence can't say anything. Adam can, but he doesn't. His elbow is leaned on the armrest of the couch, his head in his hand. His index finger is pointed out in line of his lips, like it has a life of its own. He always sits like that when he's bored. Lawrence knows this, even though he probably hasn't had eye contact with Adam this long since… He can't remember when.

"Hey… Hey there," Lawrence says hesitatingly.

Adam just keeps looking at him for a few seconds, before he gestures to the tube sticking out of his nose.

"The nurse said that you could take that out when you woke up," he says. "I told her I'd tell you, but then I figured, what's the use. You probably already knew that."

Lawrence isn't sure what he's expected to answer to that, so he just lifts the tube over his head, out of his nostrils. It feels weird to breathe real air instead of the artificial oxygen from the tubes under the metal guard holding up the IV-bag.

Adam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He breaks eye contact with Lawrence a couple of seconds, staring at his hands, before he speaks up again.

"I'm leaving you, Lawrence."

Pause. Nothing to say. No words enough.

"When you get out of here, I want you to go back to our place, pack your stuff and go," Adam finishes off. He looks Lawrence in the eye now, if that's what you can call it. Not a trace of Adam is there.

Lawrence opens his mouth, then closes it again. No words. He has no words, because he never thought he'd have this conversation. Not with Adam, because… They don't break up. They're together. Adam's a piece of his life, as obvious as Diana, and there's no way in hell he can just walk out like that.

There are no words, so Lawrence has to use the old ones. The ones that don't mean anything and that he thought he'd only say to Alison, those million times she packed her bags during their marriage.

"Adam…" Lawrence begins. "I know I've… I've messed up, but things are going to change now. I'm going to come home when I get better and we'll…"

"_Fuck, _just drop it!" Adam cuts him off.

Lawrence quiets down immediately. He's not in any way surprised that Adam reacts like this. He would, too, if he reduced the cracks in their relationship that could be fixed by a simple _I'll make it better. _

Adam looks back at him, his eyes harsh. The grey that used to be Lawrence's haven is just sharp pebbles of stone.

"There is no fucking _fixing _us, Lawrence!" Adam yells, overly clear speaking, almost like he was talking to a kid. "How the fuck did you plan you'd make anything up for me? Huh? Are you going to bring me _flowers _and expect me to forget all those fucking… _Years _I had to spend alone, knowing you were here and slowly killing yourself? I can't _do_ it, damn it, I can't keep watching you do this to yourself and keep…"

He cuts himself off like someone had pressed a mute button, and turns his head to the side. He pushes his hand hard against his lips, but can't keep a strained whimper from coming out.

Adam is crying. Again. Because of Lawrence.

Lawrence doesn't know what to do. He used to know exactly how to get Adam to stop crying, but he's forgotten. Because he hasn't seen it in so long. Because Adam has waited until after he's left before he buried his face in his pillow and cried tears that would never end.

Because Lawrence has left. He's left so many times.

"I'm sorry," Lawrence says.

What else is there to say?

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all those years, and that I never listened to what you tried to tell me, and because I didn't get how lonely you felt, and… _Fuck…_ Why do I keep doing this?"

Adam looks at him again. Still crying, but now he seems too angry to even be concerned about hiding it.

"Because you are a fucking masochist!" he blurts out, hands trembling but gesturing wildly. "You _know _what to do to make it work with us, you just don't do it because you can't fucking _stand _the idea of being happy, because you're guilty or you hate yourself for some shit that I can't figure out! How many times do you have to make the same mistake, Lawrence? Are you going to do to me what you did with Alison and Diana? Will you be happy when you're alone in your fucking hospital for the rest of your fucking life?"

Adam has always had the ability to throw words like they were rocks, but with these words, he doesn't even have to try very hard. Lawrence would start crying even if he whispered them sweetly into his ear.

Chances are good that this is exactly what he needs to hear to turn his life around, but it hurts so damn much. He's never had it spelled out to him this way before. Alison just turned her head and pretended that she didn't care, Diana was too young to get that no good father acted the way he did.

Instinctively, Lawrence hates Adam for pointing it out. But for once, he's not going to act on his instincts. They haven't done him any good this far.

"Everything you're saying is true," Lawrence croaks out. He hates the way his voice sounds when he's close to tears. "I've fucked up big time. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I took you for granted. And I didn't get it until it was too late. But you have to understand… I thought work was all I had. I thought that was the only thing that could make me feel useful. It was an obsession, and I…"

"_Tough fucking luck!" _Adam hisses and stands up.

He looks like he's about to storm out, but when he sees the expression on Lawrence's face, he gets something hesitating in his eyes. He doesn't sit down, but Lawrence still takes it as a good sign.

"I have no right to ask you to stay," Lawrence goes on. He doesn't even notice that he's crying. "But I'm going to do it anyway. You're just going to have to take my word, because… I can't live without you, I…"

That brief moment of vulnerability in Adam's eyes is suddenly gone again, and Lawrence realizes that that was not the right thing to say at all.

"You've _never _been able to live without me," Adam spits out. "Has that stopped you from doing this? You're going to keep doing the same shit the _second _you get back on your feet, aren't you? You're going to go straight back to work, and count on _me _to be here every time you want me to, just because you know that _I'll_ never be able to… To live without you."

The last four words are insecurely mumbled out, in contrast to everything else he's said this far. Just like Lawrence, Adam gets a little too late that this was not the right thing to say, because this open confession of codependence gives Lawrence a smidge of hope, his face lights up and he takes Adam's hand, and Adam, stupid as he is, can't get himself to pull away.

How much simpler it'd be if he could just kill himself. Or at least stop loving that stupid fucking idiot that looks at him with dazzling, dripping eyes.

"Things are going to change, Adam," Lawrence whispers. "I couldn't promise it before, I can barely promise it now. But… You were the last thing I thought about. Right before I was going to die, the only things on my mind were Diana… And you."

Adam wants to look away. Wants to tear his hands the fuck out of Lawrence's. Stop needing him.

"You have no… _Idea," _he sputters out. "How much I've…"

He can't get the last words out. Isn't even sure what they'd be. And still, it's not until then that Lawrence fully understands.

How much Adam has suffered, how many nights he had to wake up from nightmares and see the empty side of the bed where Lawrence is supposed to be. All the mornings where he had to watch Lawrence's back as he walks farther and farther away, and knowing that if he'd really loved Adam, he'd stay.

"If you ever try to fucking leave me again," Adam settles for saying, with tears of past misery and new hope flowing freely down his cheeks, "I'm going to tie you to the bed and set the house on fire."

Then he falls apart, dives into Lawrence's chest, feels the arms closing around him, and even though he doesn't really want to, he can't help but thinking they're going to stay there from now on.

"Adam… I'm so, so sorry…"

Adam clenches his teeth, annoyed with his tears and annoyed with the fact that he actually believes Lawrence this time, but can't keep himself. It's like that time a few days back, when Lawrence pushed him up against the door and they actually felt _close. _Adam knows their chances are slim, but he's stupid and weak and in love, and pressed up against Lawrence's chest, underneath the smell that's just antibiotics and IV and hospital, there's a scent that's simply Lawrence, a trace of _him _underneath all those parts of him that the hospital has killed. And that's enough to keep his hopes up.

Truth is, their chances are better than ever. Lawrence actually means everything he's said, but Adam can't be sure. Because trust is a fragile thing, and they're going to have to build it all up again.

Nothing is for sure. Nothing should be counted on. But as Adam feels Lawrence crying into his hair and close his arms tighter around him, it's at least a good start.


	11. Their Scars

**A/N: This… Is… The last… Chapter… Anywhere… Ever. (Dies) No, but seriously: as of this chapter, the fic is officially finished! And trust me, I'm going to miss it like hell, but you know… Adam and Lawrence get by without me now, and I have to let go. Sigh. (Until the next time they're in a mess, of course, then I'll be prepared as always to exploit their misery for the sake of my ego. XD) Anyway, I hope you'll be happy with le ending! You deserve it, for all the awesome reviews you've left. You guys rock big time. ^^ **

**10: Their Scars**

One of the nights Adam and Lawrence spent together, shortly after they'd realized that they truly loved each other and couldn't dismiss this as a temporary thing anymore, Adam's shoulder had locked up again.

Lawrence had never been able to deal with that very well. He still isn't. Every time Adam impatiently rolls his arm back and forth, or just when he takes off his shirt, a stab of guilt goes through his heart.

That goddamn bullet scar that never goes away. Never will he forgive himself for giving him that. Especially since he so badly wanted to believe that his mind would heal sooner or later. But this particular day, it'd become painfully clear that it never would.

It had been one of Adam's bad days. Lawrence had come home too late to stop it.

They were in bed. Lawrence had managed to drag Adam out from under the table, gotten him to take a pill and take off his t-shirt, drenched in cold sweat. When the trembling had eased down and he breathed normally again, Adam tried to reach for his cigarettes, and grimaced when his shoulder strained.

"Damn it…" he mumbled and leaned back on the bed again.

Lawrence wrapped his arms around his waist. Hoped that Adam wouldn't notice that he was damn near nauseous with guilt.

"You feeling better now?" he asked.

Knowing that it was useless.

Adam shook his head. Covered Lawrence's hand with his own without even thinking about it.

"It's still hard to use that arm," he said. It was easier to pretend that they were talking about his shoulder.

Lawrence nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "There's not one day that goes by when I don't wish that I hadn't… Done that to you."

It was the millionth time he said he was sorry for that. And even then, he'd just started caring about Adam so much that those words weren't nearly enough to describe everything he was sorry for.

And as usual, Adam didn't seem to think even almost in the same tracks as Lawrence. He just smiled miserably, tilted his head back to look him in the eye.

Adam doubted in so many things, and he still does. But never in Lawrence. Not even a couple of years from then, when he probably should've.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, man," he said, looking firmly at Lawrence's nose. He wasn't good at having serious conversations and keep eye contact. "If you hadn't been there, I would've been dead now."

The he paused, turned away. Lawrence probably wasn't meant to hear the last thing he said, muttering under his breath.

"Even if I'd made it out of the bathroom."

xxxxxxxxxxx

Adam throws the keys on the table when they walk into the apartment. Lawrence closes the door behind him and looks around like this place is strange to him, which you can't really blame him for.

"You've barely been home at all while I was at the hospital," he says, and Adam turns around. "How have you been able to make a mess?"

Adam grins and scratches the back of his head.

"You weren't home since fucking forever before then, either," he says and looks around, like he didn't see the coffee table full of dirty glasses or the dust gathering in the corners before Lawrence pointed it out. "Plus, you know I have a nick for making a mess."

Lawrence smiles, and takes a few closer to him through the living room. Walking kind of like he's not sure if he's allowed to step on these floors. Adam eyes him up and down, probably interpreting this nervousness as a sign that his chest is acting up again.

"You feeling okay?" he asks, his voice cracking a little. This is still new to him, even though he spent basically every woken second with Lawrence in the hospital during his rehabilitation.

Lawrence nods rapidly, steps a little closer.

"Yeah, sure."

"Really?" Adam asks, and walks towards him, too. "Nothing with the chest or the breathing or anything?"

"No," Lawrence says. It's really annoying that just these simple questions are enough to make him damn near teary-eyed. "Just… Nervous about coming back home, I guess."

Adam nods, and there's a pause. When he realizes the meaning behind Lawrence's words, he gestures towards the couch, and they sit down.

Most people wouldn't understand why Lawrence acts this way, even though he's wanted nothing more than coming home for the past weeks. But Adam has a way too clear insight in just how fucked up Lawrence's mind is.

Just how illogical his phobias are. And just how good he is at turning everything against himself, to turn himself into that desperately screaming, blood-soaked man that he thought he left in the bathroom but that he still is inside.

Adam leans his elbow against the back of the couch and turns to Lawrence as he slumps down next to him. He has that patient smile that Lawrence hadn't seen very often before their time at the hospital recently. When Adam has spent all his time on Lawrence's bed, wedged in between his feet, and they talked about all these things they never dared to discuss before. Or, that Adam wanted to discuss but Lawrence simply couldn't.

Lawrence suddenly feels so much in love that he can barely stand it, and reaches out a hand to stroke over his cheek. Adam snorts shyly and lowers his gaze. He's not used to this, either. It's going to take time.

"What is it that you're obsessing over now, Lawrence?" he asks quietly and cocks his head to the side.

Lawrence rolls his eyes at himself and shrugs.

"I really don't know. I'm glad to be home. I'm glad you're giving me a second chance… Or, a gazillionth chance, probably," he says, and Adam chuckles. "It's just… I'm afraid I'll let you down."

Adam nods. There's a pause.

"It's not impossible," Adam finally says and throws his hand out feebly. "You still have those anxieties, those won't go away just because you had a little heart attack. But you've realized what they are now. And you know… How they express themselves. So maybe now, you'll realize when it's them that are controlling you, rather than yourself."

Lawrence feels a pang through his chest, much like the one he feels when he sees Adam's bullet scar, and shakes his head.

"No," he says, and puts his hand over Adam's. "No. Don't say that. Don't act like I was possessed, or something. I'm still the one responsible for my actions, I can't blame them on… The bathroom. I could've handled it differently, I could've started therapy, or… AA, and I could've done something about it. You tried talking to me about it so many times, I could've…"

Adam lowers his gaze again, and nods slowly. Lawrence knows that he gets what he means, and he also knows that he's going to think of another excuse for him. Adam's too forgiving for his own good, after all.

"Yeah," he says after another pause. "Yeah, you could've. Just like I could've left you, or dragged Diana over here and had some kind of intervention. Or like _I _could've seen a therapist when I had my bad times, to help you feeling a little less like you had to be some kind of knight in shiny armor. Fuck, Lawrence, what good are you doing obsessing over that?"

Lawrence smiles insecurely, and Adam smiles back. Smiles at something he never thought he'd be able to smile about.

"You are responsible for all the shit you did," Adam then says. "You always have been. But you never would've been that way if it hadn't been for the bathroom. And you didn't have any control over you being there or not."

Lawrence opens his mouth, and Adam cuts him off before he can even say anything.

"And either way, what's done is done," he says softly. "I'm glad you're still here, and still… Alive. I'm glad I didn't kill myself. And to be honest, I'm kind of glad I gave you a gazillion chances, too."

Lawrence smiles again, more gratefully this time. He knows what Adam's talking about. It's another one of the subjects they've gone through during the weeks at the hospital.

"When did you become so smart?" he asks and strokes Adam over the cheek again.

Adam smiles embarrassedly.

"It's just a charade," he says in an exhale and looks at the opposite wall. "The second you look the other way, I'll become a pot-smoking, gonorrhea-carrying high schooler again."

Lawrence chuckles, and then they're quiet again.

"When did you say your first therapy session was?" Adam asks after a few seconds.

"This…" Lawrence looks up at the ceiling, as if he's searching for the date there. "Friday. It was Friday, at… Four."

Adam nods. When he speaks up again, he asks a question he's asked Lawrence again and again during this past time, but still hasn't really gotten a real answer to.

"Sorry, man, but I have to ask again," he says and fumbles around with his fingers in his hair for a bit. "What was it you were keeping away from? When you couldn't be home? I mean, I get that you couldn't be here after we'd had a fight, and I get that there were people you had to… 'Save' there at the hospital, but there must've been something here you were scared of. What was it, was it me?"

Lawrence sighs and lets his head fall down next to him on the backrest of the couch. He's quiet for so long that Adam starts thinking that he's not going to answer.

"I don't know," he finally says. "Yeah, maybe. Yeah. I'd seen you when you were at your worst, and now that _I _was at my worst… I didn't know how you'd be able to handle it. I thought I'd be a burden. I… I think that was it. I don't know. You should ask me when I've finally seen that goddamn therapist."

Adam smiles, still with a hint of sadness in there. The thought that that sadness might never go away is heavy on Lawrence's heart, along with the thousand other weights it bears.

That moment when Adam looked into Lawrence's eyes and saw that he'd fully understood how much he'd hurt him, was so horrible that he almost thought about taking it all back and say that everything was fine the way it was. He knew that it was necessary, that Lawrence has to understood that he could've come home and found Adam dead. He'd already decided how he was going to do it.

If it hadn't been for the same reason as Adam was prepared to live a life in misery.

Whatever makes Lawrence happy is okay.

Lawrence reaches out and touches Adam's cheek again. He's thinking the exact same thing as Adam right now, and neither one of them say it. Maybe they'll learn sooner or later. If they don't, that's suddenly okay, too. It still hurts less now.

"I don't really care anymore," Adam says, lifts his hand to Lawrence's and braids their fingers together.

Lawrence nods. Looks into Adam's eyes and tries to save that look permanently in his memory. The one thing in his life he doesn't have to work to save.


End file.
